the sweetly scented killer

mothers and daughters

seth

We just might make our first child tonight if she goes to bed wearing that.

"W--what does that mean?" Flora asks. Her finger twitches on my arm. It means I want to fuck you until you beg me to stop.

"Nothing you need to worry about," I let her go. I go to my closet and hang up my suit jacket.

I turn around and examine her side. Erica picked out all of her clothes, and from the few times I've seen Erica, she seems to have a very provocative way of dressing. Call me crazy, but something about Flora tells me she just isn't that way. I guess this will be interesting.

I walk out in black boxers and while crossing the room to get to the bathroom, I see Flora taking a flower out of her hair by looking in the reflection of a picture frame.

I can't help but wonder what her reaction will be to see me in so little clothing. I've never met someone so easily perturbed. She looked at me like I killed her dog in front of her when I said "what the hell" earlier.

A very unfortunate gut feeling tells me we are 100% not having sex tonight. Or ever.

Her loss.

I climb into bed and look at my agenda for tomorrow. Mother arranged breakfast for the whole family, then one on one time with Flora. She really regrets not trying harder with Erica when she and Damien were first mated. But personally, I think that even if she had, Erica still would have been detached. I don't even think she sees Damien anymore. I don't think he cares, but even I thought it was weird.

I almost turn the lights off, then I remember I'm "married" now, and there's another person in the room.

She stands on the other end of the room, messing with her fingers close to where the dress ends and her thighs continue.

"What are you doing?" I frown curiously.

She meets my eyes only briefly, then looks down again. "I do not want to lay next to you."

"Why not?" I tilt my head, knowing full and well the answer to my question.

"Because you are in underwear, and I am in only a nightgown." I try my best to keep from rolling my eyes. She's being serious, I tell myself.

"I'll turn away while you get under the covers," I say flatly. Her eyes raise while her head is still down. "Yeah?" She nods.

So I sigh and turn away while she gets in bed with me. I turn off the lights, even though one of the many advantages of being a demon living in hell is maintaining keen vision. Even in the dark.

While turning back around, I accidentally touch her, and the rash on my fingers stings. I wince, and I guess it was audible because Flora asks me what's wrong.

"Nothing," I say quietly.

"You're hurt," she says. "I can feel it."

"I just have a rash on my hand. I'm fine."

Flora turns on the lamp on her nightstand. "May I have your hand?" she sits up. I roll my eyes, still laying down. But I close my eyes in irritation and give her my hand.

My fingers are enclosed between her hands. I hear her inhale, then my eyes fly open when this "healing" hurts more than the fucking rash. I frown until she lets my hand go, and all that's left is a faint red line. I examine my hand then look at her. She smiles.

"You've only been in existence for twenty Earth years," I say, mostly to myself. "How do you have healing powers already?"

"I can only heal if the harm is done by an element of nature."

"This wasn't nature, there are no plants here."

"I touched a poisonous plant a few days ago, and healed myself of a rash in the same spot. I believe you transmitted the same rash." I nod slowly.

"Thanks," I say, still frowning.

"Of course."

I've never used the word beautiful to describe a woman before, but as I keep eye contact with Flora, my thoughts are changing.

I sit up, turning off my brain. I start to think with my head down there. I turn her toward me, and her face becomes serious. I lean in and angle my head, but lie her down on her back. Her eyes travel down to my lips, then seem to snap back to themselves and raise to my eyes again.

I lower myself to be closer to her, and her eyes go into a trance again.

I kiss her neck and touch her other shoulder. My fingers discreetly drag the strap of her nightgown down. I kiss her chest, and her hesitant fingers weave themselves into my hair.

When I look at her face, it screams I don't want to do this. I almost keep going. Almost. But something in me--something on my mother's side, something that my father's side tries its best to fight to the death--tells me to stop. And I listen.

I lay back down on my back next to her. "Why did you stop?" Flora whispers.

"We don't have to have sex tonight," I say quietly.

"Really?"

"Yep."

"Thank you," she kisses my cheek. I turn away from her. "Goodnight, Seth."

***

During breakfast, conversation flows for one reason: Flora. She put flowers in a thin vase as a centerpiece, and decorated the tablecloth with little white flowers to contradict the black.

Every moment I spend with Flora, the more I wish to take myself out of existence.

My parents seem to like her, especially mother. She's very interested in her gift, and Flora seems happy to share. I'm barely listening, although I tune in occasionally.

I wonder if mother ever goes to visit heaven. I wonder if they still accept her after she decided she wanted to live in hell and raise Damien and myself.

I pass the lounge while heading to the torture chambers. My mother's voice stands out to me as I pass "...with your mother?" I hear her say. I back up and peek into the open door. She sits across from Flora with a teacup in hand.

"Um..." Flora starts. I step away from the opening. "I wish I could say." A smile is present in her voice. "I admire my mother greatly, and I've always wanted to get to know her, but I don't believe she feels the same."

"What do you mean?"

"I am not one of my mother's favorite children. I just don't think she knows me. Actually, I don't think she wants to know me. In her defense, she does have eight children. But, I always thought that it was an accident. She didn't mean to overlook me. But, now I'm thinking that it wasn't. I don't think she likes me. I can't image what I have done."

I look inside once more. Mother sits with her arm around Flora, rubbing her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, honey," mother says quietly. "Being a mother, it is not easy. Especially with more than one child. And eight? That has to be even harder. But also, part of being a mother is devoting equal love and attention to each of your children. So I want you to know, sweetheart, that it is not your fault. At all. It is her fault--not yours--that she doesn't know you. Okay?"

"Mm-hm," Flora sniffles.

"And you can always come to me. Whenever you want, about anything. Including my very standoffish son." They both laugh a little at this. I look down and frown within a small smile, but keep moving.